


Bittersweet Symphony

by OVLRD_Loki



Series: Stiles in the Alpha Pack 'Verse [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Afterlife, Alpha Deucalion (Teen Wolf), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, And the whole a/b/o thing isnt really mentioned, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Blind Deucalion (Teen Wolf), Character Death, Death, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Stiles, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Injured Stiles, M/M, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Happy, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Omega Verse, Paralysis, Past Character Death, Sad Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Alpha Pack, Underage Sex, VARIOUS TIMES, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, also, also i cried while writing this, but its there, like at all, no beta we die like men, paralyzed stiles, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 13:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18262628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OVLRD_Loki/pseuds/OVLRD_Loki
Summary: Stiles’ history with Deucalion is a peculiar one.Looking at the man now, he tries to compare him to the one he once knew, but finds nothing.-Or the one in which Stiles was raised by Deucalion and was there since Deucalion was a good man until he became mad.





	1. The Madness of a Lover

**Author's Note:**

> No beta, we die like men (nah but fr if any of yall wanna beta this lmk ily)
> 
> Also, trigger warnings apply, there's serious abuse in this, underage sex (a minor and an adult), some violence, death, etc. 
> 
> Read on if it's your cuppa' tea, or if you just wanna cry lol.

Stiles’ history with Deucalion is a peculiar one.

 

Stiles remembers Deucalion, it’s his earliest memory. He’d been in front of the man, the alpha towering over him. Stiles was small, barely up to the man’s knees. In his memory, Deucalion is kneeling down, staring him in the eyes, and then he’d smiled, picked him up, and ever since that day, Stiles had belonged to Deucalion.

 

At the beginning, the man had a beautiful pack, with alphas and betas and omegas everywhere. And then a hunter blinded him, killed his pack, and Deucalion was never the same again.

 

Stiles had survived the attack thanks to the man. He’d grabbed Stiles and curled over him and protected him from the hunters.

 

He remembers the name Argent, and he remembers a blonde woman and her father. He remembers when the woman blinded Deucalion, and how she laughed and drugged him with wolfsbane.

 

He remembers the feeling of all his pack bonds being torn apart until only Deucalion was left. And then, when she saw Stiles, the way he had clung onto Deucalion, even as the man was an inch away from death. Whatever she saw, it made the blonde woman spare them. Or maybe she’d thought they’d suffer more if they survived. Or maybe that they would perish soon enough.

 

But whatever happened, whatever she saw, it made her let them live.

 

* * *

 

 

Deucalion was never the same after that day. All he had left was Stiles. All Stiles had left was the alpha.

 

And Stiles made sure that he’d heal his alpha. He would always be there for him.

 

Deucalion adapted to his new disability. His werewolf status made it easier. It was difficult all the same, but Stiles made sure to be by his alpha’s side, through thick and thin.

 

Deucalion relied on Stiles. They lived in the woods for quite some time, hunting wildlife and staying in abandoned cabins. While Deucalion learned how to manage his new life, Stiles hunted and fed the man, helped him bathe, and made sure the man never felt alone.

 

* * *

 

 

It was one night, months after, when Deucalion hugged Stiles and dropped him onto the bed, pressing his lips against the omega’s and caressing his body.

 

Stiles lost his virginity that night. And he gained the heart of his alpha.

 

* * *

 

 

It was almost a year later when Deucalion lunged at Stiles under the effect of the full moon.

 

Deucalion had cried the next day, held the omega to his chest and apologized into his hair. His shoulders shook with sobs, and his shift still hadn’t diminished.

 

Stiles, sporting broken ribs and gashes in his legs, had wrapped his arms around his alpha and quieted his cries, kissing him, and telling him it was okay.

 

A week later, when Deucalion threw Stiles onto the bed, he bit Stiles until he bled. Stiles didn’t scream, but he did cry, and the alpha licked his tears away, waited for the bite to heal, and did it all over again.

 

Since that day, Stiles let the man dig into his skin, because Deucalion wanted to, and it was Stiles job to keep his alpha happy, no matter what.

 

* * *

 

 

They stumbled upon an alpha one day. Wild and insane.

 

The alpha was shifted, and he’d attacked the duo upon seeing them. Stiles had been horrified, and then the alpha had attacked him.

 

He’d pinned him down, and Stiles scratched and bit and fought, but the alpha tore into him and Stiles prayed he wouldn’t be killed. He couldn’t die, he couldn’t do that to Deucalion, couldn’t leave the man alone, couldn’t take away the only thing he had left.

 

And then the alpha’s neck was torn apart, blood sprayed all over Stiles’ face, and Deucalion grabbed him and curled over him and protected him from the now dead enemy.

 

And then Stiles felt the power radiating from Deucalion, the way he absorbed the alpha’s status and it merged with his own. Felt the way the alpha’s madness doubled and turned into something sinister.

 

Deucalion changed, once again, and Stiles wondered if his alpha was still in there, hidden under mountains of insanity.

 

* * *

 

 

They meet an alpha named Ennis, a few years after. He claims vengeance against the Argents.

 

Deucalion smiles, and the two become close friends.

 

And then Deucalion tells him to kill his pack, as it’ll make him stronger, and then he’ll be able to defeat the Argents.

 

Stiles wonders if Deucalion remembers the pain of losing his pack, and if it made _him_ stronger like he claimed.

 

Stiles asks him, in the privacy of night, if he would kill Stiles to become stronger. Deucalion had kissed him and held him close, nails piercing his skin in a way that was now normal.

 

“No, not you. Never you”.

 

And Stiles had fallen asleep with the alpha still digging into his skin, his face hidden in the man’s chest. He felt safe and loved, and his alpha was happy, so Stiles was happy too.

 

* * *

 

 

Ennis finds a woman named Kali.

 

They fall in love, and then Kali kills her pack because she wanted to join Ennis.

 

Soon, Kali and Ennis join Stiles and Deucalion.

 

In the back of his mind, something screams at Stiles that this is wrong, that they’re doing something bad, that killing their pack is painful and they’re being stupid.

 

And then he feels Ennis and Kali through the pack bond, feels his alpha’s power glowing like it hadn’t in years, and Stiles knows that if his alpha is this happy, then surely nothing they do can be that bad.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s Stiles who finds the twins.

 

They’re his same age, and they’re by a river, deep in the forest where the pack now lived.

 

They have bruises, and they flinch when they smell Stiles. When they smell his stench of alpha.

 

Let it be known that Stiles was an omega at heart, and at seeing the boys, curled up together and in pain and smelling of fear, Stiles did what his heart told him to, and he opened his palm to the boys and took them to pack.

 

Deucalion had never been angry at Stiles before, and after the twins went back to their pack, with promises to come back tomorrow, Deucalion threw Stiles against the wall and broke him.

 

He didn’t apologize, but when he saw the potential in the twins, he’d kissed Stiles and thanked him for being his, for finding him a new, beautiful asset to his pack.

 

Stiles had smiled, kissed Deucalion, and let the alpha reset his shoulders, popping the bones back into place. His wounds healed over, creating scars that faded after time.

 

Stiles had wondered, a bit confused, if Deucalion was just as bad as the alpha who hurt the twins.

 

But then Deucalion held him while his body healed, protecting him from the world, and Stiles knew that Deucalion loved him, he was nothing like the alphas who had hurt the twins. Nothing alike.

 

* * *

 

 

Aiden and Ethan kill their pack, and they save their alpha for last.

 

They’re powerful, and when they conjoin, they radiate power in heavy streams.

 

Stiles feels the two new bonds, the connection to them, the feeling of _pack._

 

His connection to the twins is different from Kali and Ennis. Maybe it’s because of their age, or because Stiles was the one who found them.

 

It doesn’t matter, really. His omega instincts act up when the twins are near. The need to feed them and praise them, the need to let them feel the love of the pack.

 

He learns soon enough that Deucalion doesn’t feel the same.

 

Deucalion raises his claw against them one day, and Stiles felt his body freeze. It was the first time Stiles felt afraid of Deucalion.

 

He’d torn Ethan’s arm, and Aiden had been about to attack Deucalion, eyes blazing red as Ethan fell to the ground, when Stiles stepped between them and Deucalion, about to attack Aiden, had ripped Stiles’ chest open.

 

Deucalion’s eyes had gone from red to their normal pale color in a flash, and he’d quickly grabbed him and taken his pain. He’d yelled at Stiles, anger and fear and worry and pain clouding the air, his emotions rampant as Stiles struggled to breathe.

 

“Not you, not you, please not you, never you”

 

Stiles, cradled in his alpha’s arms, with blood pooling in his mouth, and his vision dimming, had only cupped the man’s face in his hand and nuzzled his neck. He’d passed out after, leaving blood stained on the man’s cheek.

 

When Stiles had woken up, Deucalion had been holding him, combing his hair.

 

He’d remained silent for a while, until he finally spoke.

 

That day, he gave Stiles a rule, one that he would never break.

 

“Never get in your alpha’s way”.

 

* * *

 

 

Aiden and Ethan grew scared of Deucalion, and Ennis and Kali weren’t their favorite people either.

 

Stiles had smiled at them, comforted them by running his fingers through their hair, and told them that the pack would always protect them, that they were safe and loved.

 

Aiden and Ethan had tried to smile back, but it had fallen short, and Stiles told himself it was because they were traumatized, because their old pack was so bad, because they just weren’t used to their new alpha.

 

Deep down, Stiles new that Deucalion didn’t care about the boys, only about their powers and the strength they added to the pack. But Deucalion loved Stiles, so maybe, somewhere in alpha’s psyche, he still had the ability to love his pack, to love the twins just like an alpha should.

 

( _Maybe,_ Stiles had thought one day, _the reason why he can’t love them is because they’re not pack. They’re alphas, not his betas._

_Would he still love me if I was an alpha?)_

* * *

 

 

They move to Beacon Hills, where Deucalion hears about a True Alpha, who hangs out with the remaining members of the Hale pack.

 

Deucalion wants the True Alpha, wants Scott McCall, and he wants Derek Hale (or maybe Peter, maybe _both)_ to join them. Stiles wonders how it’ll work, if Scott and Derek and Peter will have to share the kills of their pack, or if they’ll have to kill each other in the end.

 

Aiden and Ethan assist Beacon Hills High School, Deucalion tells them to find the pack, a ragtag group of teenagers, to infiltrate, to get information, to make them join them.

 

To make them join the Alpha Pack.

 

* * *

 

 

Ethan comes to the house smelling of sex.

 

Stiles is familiar with the scent, and all of them are as well. Deucalion smirks at him and Kali and Ennis cackle at the boy’s blush.

 

His brother, Aiden, comes home with the same scent. Except the scent is of the other pack, and Deucalion, for the second time since their joining the pack, attacks.

 

“Traitors!” he screamed, had shifted and had started to beat down on them ruthlessly. Kali and Ennis had joined in at some point, mostly holding them down while Deucalion beat them to an inch of their death.

 

Stiles’ mind screamed at him to go, to help them, to make Deucalion stop. His body held him in place, Deucalion’s rule repeating in his mind.

 

“Never get in your alpha’s way, never get in your alpha’s way, never get in your alpha’s way, never…”

 

Stiles stepped forward, tugged on Deucalion’s arm, and then his alpha had him pinned to the wall, claws digging into his throat and feet dangling in the air.

 

Kali and Ennis stared at them, dropping the twins ( _so much blood, there was so much blood, they were going to die, no no no)._

Deucalion’s eyes were glowing red, and Stiles didn’t struggle against the hold, only cupped the man’s face in his hands and willed him to calm down, but Deucalion pressed tighter against his throat, blocking his airway and seconds away from snapping his neck.

 

Stiles let him, swiped his thumb across the man’s cheek and let the man calm down by himself.

 

He dropped Stiles a moment before he could faint, and Stiles coughed and spluttered and stayed down by his alpha’s feet. Seconds trickled by in silence, only Stiles’ pants passing through them. Minutes passed, when Stiles looked up and spoke, using soft words.

 

“Duke, they’re not traitors, they’re pack”

 

Maybe it was the nickname, the one he’d used years before, when their pack was still alive, before Argent, before pain, before everything.

 

“They’re just spying for us, they’re earning their trust”

 

Deucalion had calmed, seemed pensive. He turned to look at the twins, on the ground and bleeding and looking closer to death by the second.

 

“Earning their trust…”

 

Then Deucalion had nodded, seemingly at peace, and motioned off Kali and Ennis. The two took the twins away, and Stiles hoped they were going to heal them, to fix their wounds.

 

Deucalion picked Stiles up after a moment, carrying him to their bedroom and dropping him down on the bed. He leaned over Stiles and kissed his forehead.

 

“So smart, so clever, my beautiful boy…”

 

He nuzzled Stiles, kissing him and touching his body.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t see that before, I should’ve understood, so clever my Stiles”

 

Deucalion pulled back, putting his knees on either side of Stiles.

 

“But I gave you an order, and you disobeyed. I have to do this, you understand, right?”

 

He pressed one of his knees on Stiles’ abdomen, digging down until Stiles’ chest hurt, until breathing was difficult because his lungs couldn’t expand.

 

“I gave you an order, you understand, I know you do”

 

He gripped Stiles’ hips with both hands, squeezing and digging his claws in, and Stiles felt pain. He understood, of course he did, but Aiden and Ethan were okay now, so it’s okay if Stiles needed to be punished. He had to learn. He understood.

 

Deucalion pulled, strength brutal, and Stiles’ hips disconnected from his spine, shattering inside his body and he felt every single nerve flare in pain, and every single muscle spasm and loose feeling.

 

Stiles screamed, like he never had before, as Deucalion paralyzed him.

 

* * *

 

 

Aiden and Ethan disappear that day, Kali and Ennis don’t know where they are, and Deucalion is furious. Stiles is confused, because the twins couldn’t have betrayed them.

 

( _Could they?)_

* * *

 

A week later, their pack bond severs, and Stiles watches, laying on the bed (as he had for the past week, with the help of Deucalion a few times to eat or use the bathroom) as his alpha stares out the window with red eyes. He destroys their room, tearing furniture to bits and pieces, eviscerating the walls, ripping the door off its hinges.

 

Deucalion is angry, frustrated. At night, when he sits against the bed, next to Stiles, he doesn’t sleep. He reeks of anger and hatred.

 

Stiles wonders, for the second time in many years, if his Deucalion, his Duke, is still in there, buried deep down, somewhere, inside the man who sits next to him.

 

And for the first time ever, Stiles cries, fat tears streaming down his face as his alpha ( _not his, not his Deucalion, not the one he knows, not the one he loves)_ stares at him, red eyes glowing in the night, because he knows the answer is no.

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes Deucalion and Kali and Ennis disappear for hours, maybe a whole day, coming back in scratches and bruises that heal slowly.

 

Deucalion grows more impatient throughout the weeks, descending deeper and deeper into madness.

 

One night, when Stiles realizes he can’t move his fingers, he talks to Deucalion.

 

“I love you”

 

It’s whisper, barely heard, barely there. But Deucalion turns to look at him, eyes red as they had been permanently for weeks now.

 

Deucalion pets his hair until Stiles falls asleep.

 

Stiles dreams of a time when Deucalion would say it back, when the alpha would curl around him and protect him.

 

He dreams of his Deucalion, not the man who now wears his skin.

 

* * *

 

 

They hear them before they see them, but by then it’s too late.

 

Kali and Ennis get shot, arrows filled with wolfsbane piercing through their skull, their heart, and dropping them dead in seconds.

 

Hunters step inside, as well as the other pack, as well as Aiden and Ethan and the people they’d reeked of.

 

( _Traitors,_ Stiles thinks, _both of you! Your fault, this is your fault!_

He also knows it’s not, they didn’t deserve it, any of it. But it hurt, it hurt so bad, feeling Kali and Ennis die, feeling Deucalion lose power, feeling his alpha finally snap, feeling the moment when Deucalion rages against them).

 

The hunters storm into the room, and they shoot.

 

Dimly, Stiles is aware that an arrow pierces his body, but it doesn’t hurt. Stiles stopped being able to feel weeks ago, could barely talk. His body was half dead but he was still alive.

 

But Stiles feels when Deucalion roars, it shakes his very core. The hunters shoot him, again and again and again and it watching it, feeling it through their broken bond, it hurts more than the arrow in his body.

 

A hunter grabs him, pulls him up from the bed, and then Deucalion’s eyes land on his.

 

The red fades, and then it comes back, a million times brighter, and Deucalion shifts even deeper into his wolf. He was feral now, lost in instinct.

 

The hunter is thrown to the side, and the wolves from the other pack try to attack Deucalion, but he doesn’t care.

 

He grabs Stiles, and he jumps through the window and they land outside and Stiles feels pain, from the bond, from his body, from the fact that Deucalion is protecting him, curling himself around Stiles and pulling his pain as the hunters and the wolves make their way outside.

 

Stiles is looking up at the man, and he sees Deucalion, he sees his Deucalion, his Duke, his alpha.

 

Deucalion holds one of Stiles’ hands and presses it to his cheek, draining his pain.

 

He’s crying, Stiles realizes, as teardrops fall onto his face.

 

“Not you, not you, never you, please, not you”

 

A hunter with short hair greying aims a gun at Deucalion’s back, but Ethan lowers the gun and they don’t move. The wolves watch, stance offensive and ready to attack. The hunters, a girl with black hair and the older man keep their weapons in hand.

 

“Please, please, not you, never you”

 

Deucalion is trying to pull the pain, but his veins aren’t black, it isn’t working.

 

“It’s okay,” Stiles breathes out, voice hoarse.

 

He tries to smile, and he’s vaguely aware that blood is starting to flow from his mouth and nose.

 

“It doesn’t hurt”

 

Stiles drifts, and for the first time in weeks he can feel something.

 

Deucalion fades from his vision, and the light is warm and safe, just like Deucalion’s arms had been, years before. 

 

* * *

 

 

The moment the bond breaks, Deucalion does too.

 

He slumps forward, cradling a young body in his hands, protecting it against the world.

 

_(Against the Argents, against the wolves, against everyone who ever hurt him)_

He did it. It wasn’t the arrow. An arrow didn’t kill him. He did. Deucalion killed him. _I did it._

 

( _What for? What was it all for?_

_For him, it was all for him._

_It didn’t matter now, he’s gone._

_He was gone)_

He hears the wolves step forward, but he doesn’t care.

 

_Kill me, kill me, kill me, kill me._

He sees the twins, the hunters, the pack. They stare at him with pity, with disgusting emotions, and he wants to kill them, to tear them apart for taking the only thing that mattered to him.

 

_I killed him, not them. It was me._

A gun is aimed at his head, and he curls around the body more, kissing the boy’s forehead.

 

The gun goes off, and Deucalion falls.

 

 


	2. Additional Ending: Afterlife and Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But even after everything, Stiles still loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A happier ending, despite everything else

Time seems to be non-existent for a while. He feels as if he’s floating, but he doesn’t feel anything holding him up, or anything pressing down. He just _is_ , and it unsettles him, but he can’t do anything but feel calm. He wants to panic, feels the urge to, but can’t.

 

It’s been like that for some time now.

 

He remembers the fight, if it could be called that. He remembers the hunters and the wolves.

 

He remembers Stiles.

 

He remembers dying.

 

It’s distant, almost like a nightmare, but it’s real, so undoubtedly real.

 

Stiles died in his arms, and it was his fault. He hurt him, he didn’t protect him.

 

He killed him.

 

The thought had been stirring in his head for however-long had passed. Moments, maybe hours. It felt like decades.

 

He felt light. But at the same time, he wanted to feel anger.

 

He wanted to scream. Yell, punch, maim.

 

He wanted to cry.

 

He’d killed him.

 

He’d killed the love of his life.

 

The light overtakes him again, and he forgets everything, and remembers it all again, and the moment stretches itself eternally, never ending.

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing he notices is that he can hear.

 

Birds chirp, there’s the familiar rustling of leaves and grass, something skitters on the ground.

 

And then he realizes he can see.

 

He can see the forest, the blue sky, the white fluffy clouds, the fragile robin that makes its nest on a sturdy tree branch.

 

Deucalion can see. He can _see._

He feels warmth, feels the earth under his palms, and he realizes he’s lying on the grass, staring up into the sky, and he feels so _light._

He stands, slowly, tentatively.

 

He recognizes where he is, but he doesn’t know where.

 

_Why is it so familiar?_

He walks, he follows the neat worn in trail in the forest line.

 

Vaguely, he realizes that his hands aren’t wrinkled, aren’t calloused, aren’t _aged._

 

He stops when he sees a cabin, then another, and another.

 

And then he feels the bonds. Tens of bonds connected to him, strong and vibrant and _alive._

Pack.

 

He was with his pack.

 

* * *

 

 

A girl in a white floral dress waves at him, sat around a campfire with at least twenty other people.

 

His sister looked so beautiful, so happy.

 

_He missed her, so much._

He walks, numbly, towards her, and let’s her drag him down to sit on the wooden log besides her.

 

His mother, grey haired and fine lines on her face, hands him a plate of food, and his brother claps his back from besides him.

 

His second in command smiles at him as he sits next to his mate and his daughter.

 

They all smile and eat and they talk and he sits there, lump in his throat as he chews on rabbit meat, and listens and savors every moment.

 

He had his pack.

 

_But why does it still hurt?_

* * *

 

When the campfire wears out, and the sun is about to set, they walk around the forest.

 

They spread out, shifting and running and playing with each other.

 

Deucalion walks along the trees, not sure where he’s going, but keeps heading forward anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a small clearing, where the last rays of sun spark an orange hued glow across the area.

 

He recognizes the place, from years ago, before everything.

 

_The boy didn’t reach his thighs, and his doe eyes stared up at Deucalion with such a lost expression, and Deucalion knew the boy was his, so he picked him up, and he carried him away._

He stands there, waiting, for what, he’s not sure, but he waits.

 

* * *

 

 

He steps into the clearing a while later, a delicate white shirt adorning his pale, mole dotted body.

 

He leans against one of the trees, bambi eyes glittering as he smiles.

 

Deucalion can’t move, but he does anyway, steps forward and inches closer.

 

The boy smiles at him, soft and sweet and beautiful.

 

“I was wondering when you’d make it”

 

And then he opens his arms, and Deucalion holds him, hides his face in the boy’s neck, and he cries.

 

And the boy, his omega, his Stiles holds him just as tight, just as strong, and he makes sure to stay with the man, with his alpha, with his Duke.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles looks up at his alpha, and he asks himself if the man in front of him is the man he remembers from many years ago.

 

And for the first time ever, he knows the answer is yes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cri evry tim
> 
> No seriously, I do
> 
> Surprisingly, I don't even ship these two
> 
> Oof

**Author's Note:**

> Ya'll, I cried while writing this. Like, hella, lol. 
> 
> Anywho, comments are appreciated and feedback in general is just cool.


End file.
